Our door hung wide open. We had only been out for a bit, to head to the bakery for some fresh bread to go with our porridge.
I let Papa walk in first. Then Mama, then me.
Our kitchen was trashed. Our porridge, half-eaten. All except for mine, which was completely empty, spoon left dripping right onto the tablecloth.
In the same order, we headed into the living room, to see that our furniture had been thrown across the room. Papa and Mama’s recliners had been tipped over, while mine had only a very small indentation on the cushion, along with a long golden hair.
“Papa, look!” I held the strand up and he examined it. “What animal could have left this behind?”
Papa looked frightened. I did not know yet what a human looked like, but I’d heard stories of how Papa had encountered them before. They were some sort of fleshy, golden creatures, and they destroyed everything in their paths.
Papa turned the corner to our bedroom. Again, the door hung open, and inside we heard movement. Papa warned us to stay back.
I didn’t obey him. Instead I crawled under Papa’s legs, and peeked through his dense fur.
In our bedroom, all of the pillows and blankets had been tossed to the floor. All of them, except for mine.
Something was there in my bed, and it was moving. I could see its golden fur poking out from underneath my duvet.
As my breathing picked up, my Papa did not hesitate to act on this trespasser. In an instant, he pounced on top of the human, tearing into its neck.
My mama dragged me back with her teeth so that I didn’t have to look, but I could already see the blood splattered on my sheets.
Why did it have to be my porridge, my chair, and my bed? What did I do to deserve this?
In all the stories I’ve heard about humans, I’ve heard of how entitled they are. They think that they own everything, every place, every blade of grass.
I can’t sleep in my bed now, or sit in my chair, and I have no appetite for porridge. Because of her, I may never know peace again.